Chapter 18
Tavin watched as the sun crested over the horizon and then started its descent, his hands resting on his knees. After a night of uncertainty, the dawning of a new day did not make him feel any better and as the day stretched into the afternoon, his stomach became full of knots at what was to come.
Today was the day that he was going to watch the McPherson clan fall.
Drawing in a haggard breath, Tavin knew there was nothing he could do about it. No one had come to visit him during the night or throughout the day. No one had come to see if he was telling the truth or even to let him know if they had taken his ranting seriously.
If not, he would likely know the outcome before the sun set on another day.
Slumping against the wall, Tavin could not do anything but worry. He detested feeling helpless like this, especially knowing that the woman he loved was in danger.
All because of his surname.
He had hoped that Moira would at least come to confront him during the night, to be able to hear what he had to say from his own mouth. He wasn’t sure that Will would tell her how he felt, knowing that the second-in-command was very protective of his leader.
Tavin didn’t blame him. If only he had been a better man to tell her in the beginning who he was! He could have bypassed the hurt that Moira was likely feeling and this visit to the dungeon, unable to stop his family from destroying hers.
He thought back to the years before this, how he had given over information to his brothers without pause.
That was all before he had met Moira. Even now he could see her laughing eyes, hear her lovely voice. He wished that he could see her once more.
And not as he was about to swing from the gallows.
His throat tightened as he thought of his impending death.
He had regrets, but the biggest was not telling Moira how he truly felt.
If so, well...it did not matter. It would not change their fates.
He was a Stuart, not meant to be happy in his life or with anyone that could look the other way at what his past was about.
Moira was meant to be someone great, someone who could lead her clan to the future. She needed someone strong at her side, someone that would make her happy and give her wee bairns with their mother’s eyes.
That was not meant to be him.
The sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention and Tavin stood as a woman appeared, too tall to be Moira. “Are ye Tavin Stuart?” she asked, lightly, her gaze narrowed at him.
“Aye,” he replied, keeping his distance away from the bars. It was the eldest sister, the one who had married into the Campbell clan.
She gave him a once-over. “Ye dinnae look like a Stuart.”
“I wasnae aware we had a certain look about us,” he answered, grinning. “Though I have been told we have a certain smell.”
She moved closer, clearly not afraid of him. “Are ye truly a Stuart?”
Tavin heard the weight in her words. “Nay, ’tis just my surname.” He was not his da or his brothers. He did not like who they had become or what they were planning.
She sniffed, wrinkling her nose. “I am keen tae believe ye.”
He gave her a nod, glad that someone believed him for once. “Why are ye here mah lady?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Someone had tae come and see if ye have feelings for mah sister. She certainly wasnae going tae come.”
Tavin felt the ache in his heart at her proclamation. It was just as he thought. Moira hated him. “What would ye like tae know?”
“Do ye love her?”
Tavin sighed. “Aye, I do. She could do a mite better than a traitorous Stuart, but I was willing tae have her once she knew the truth.”
“Which is?”
Tavin hung his head, the words thick on his tongue. “Mah da and brothers are planning on attacking the keep tonight when everyone is at the gathering. I thought it was because they wished tae steal from the clan, but mah da wants more. He wants tae be the leader.”
She laughed. “That would mean...”
Her words faltered and Tavin clenched his jaw.
He would not put it past his da to force Moira’s hand, whether it be by show of force or him hurting someone close to her.
He wanted to kill the bastard for even thinking that he could be at her side, but that would mean for him to leave this dungeon in order for him to do so.
“When?” she asked after a moment.
“Tonight. They will come from the west wall and take over the keep.” He felt like a bastard for giving them that sort of information to begin with, but now that he was trying to make amends, perhaps they would not be successful.
The sister moved to the bars, her eyes on him. “Did ye have anything tae do with the fires last night?”
Tavin gripped the bars, a ripple of panic shooting through him. “What fires?”
“Two huts were destroyed. We suspected yer family, but they have since disappeared from the gathering.”
Tavin couldn’t believe it. There had never been mention of burning the huts nor had there been any talk of doing anything but stealing from the keep.
Of course, he should know better. His da nor his brothers had bothered to tell him about the true intent of their plans and now he sat in the dungeon instead of them, unable to stop it. “I dinnae know about the fires.”
“I suspected as much,” the sister stated, understanding in her gaze. “How could ye? Ye were in here. Tell me what I need tae know, Tavin Stuart.”
“Check the west side,” Tavin said desperately, not caring that he was betraying his own flesh and blood. “He is bringing the rebel clan. He will be looking for a weakness this evening, any weakness tae destroy yer family.”
“What of the other clans?” she asked. “He cannae fight them all.”
“I dinnae know,” Tavin replied. She had brought about a good point and there was no telling what his da would have up his sleeve to stifle the other clans from attacking back. A thought crossed his mind and Tavin looked at his ally. “The ale,” he whispered.
“He’s going tae do something tae the ale,” she answered, her eyes wide as she realized what he was referring to.
It was the only thing that all the clans shared, that flowed freely without anyone truly watching it and the McPhersons had supplied it for the gathering, as part of their hosting the clans on their land.
Tavin knew his da knew this and would not put it past him to poison the lot, to get his revenge on the other clans. “Mah family.”
“Go,” Tavin urged, knowing that the ale would be loaded soon. Right at this moment he hated his da for what he was putting this family through.
He would kill him himself if he had the chance. He had taken everything from his son.
She paused, reaching into her pocket. “I believe ye, Tavin Stuart. I believe ye are a good, kind man that loves mah sister and for that, I am giving ye a chance to prove it tae her.”
Surprised, Tavin watched as she unlocked the cell door, pulling it open with a horrid creak of the bars grating across the stone floor. “Dinnae make me regret this,” she told him, stepping back.
“I willnae,” he told her, his jaw set. This was his one chance to make it all up to Moira and her clan, to save her from certain doom. “Can ye get me a horse and a sword lass?”
She smiled. “Go up these stairs and tae the right, not the left. If ye do, ye will find yerself in the midst of the great hall and I would rather not have tae explain mah actions just yet.”
“Where is Moira?” he asked. “I need tae get tae her.”
“She’s already at the battlefield,” her sister stated, fear reflecting in her eyes. “Go, save her, protect her. I will see about the ale.”
“Thank ye,” he said softly. He didn’t know how he would repay her for this boon.
She gave him a tender smile. “Just make mah sister happy for the rest of her days and I will be happy.”
Tavin gave her a short nod before turning toward the stairs, taking her directions, and finding the horse saddled and ready to go.
A quick check revealed a small dagger resting underneath the saddle and Tavin mounted the horse, sending it racing across the moors to reach the battlefield.
He had to find Moira and warn her before it was too late and if she sent him back to the dungeon after it was all said and done, then he could at least say that he had tried and saved her life because of it.
He would never let his da or his brothers harm her and if it meant their life for hers, then he would gladly hold the sword to their throats.